Continuity
by Sorrow Reminisce
Summary: There had been talk of infiltrating Terminal City. There had been talk of sticking to canon, staying in character, returning to the beginning of it all and searching for the siblings once more. (Pairing? Well you see, that's half the problem... *wink*)


A/N: Unless you have a virtual apartment at 'The Broken World' and are familiar with the SK's tendency to glow in the dark (or at least try), you may find yourself rather dazed and confused as you read this fic. Hell, I'm confused as I write it so no doubt even those learned in the ways of TBW ramble will have a hard time figuring out what the point to this tale is. But obviously I'm suffering from the upside of manic today and _angst_ has been replaced by the _clinically insane_ genre. Anyway, this tale is dedicated to the regulars of TBW, in particular, those who are up to the play with uh... cult stuff... *wink wink* 

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**Continuity**

Chapter one ------ inflitration

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There had been talk of infiltrating Terminal City. There had been talk of sticking to canon, staying in character, returning to the beginning of it all and searching for the siblings once more. There were theories on the Breeding Cult, people had developed cures for The Virus, some felt that Ben was still alive and out there somewhere - on the loose since the demise of Manticore. Some felt Lydecker would return and save the transgenics penned within Terminal City. Others had less confidence in the man who had hunted the original transgenic escapee's and believed he would come back - with a whole new Manticore tucked beneath his arm. Everyone was an expert on something in their own way.

But speculation was not the same as it used to be. The broken world was dying. But the problem wasn't the familiars or the army that massed outside TC's gates. No no, they weren't Fox's henchmen. Instead, it was the fans who would cause the world to collapse.

How? They would forget. They would drift away and move on to *bigger and better* things. And the characters they had left behind, _Max, Alec, Joshua, Logan, Sketchy, Original Cindy, Normal, Ames White... _would fade into the backs of memory and disappear. 

Ironic huh?

Something had to be done about this. Sure there had been pleas to the Creators for help. Such requests for renewal remained unfulfilled. Obviously, it was time to take matters into the hands of the fans, those who remained loyal to the broken world. Drastic measures needed to be taken. And with such a hodge podge bunch of crazies to do the job, you must excuse me while I make a pop-culture reference that I'm _always _using and say... the fall down the rabbit hole would indeed be a seemingly drug-induced (but not) nonsensical one.

With so many now beginning to 'not care', it was much easier to twist a few plotlines here and there, alter the 'reality' somewhat, even tunnel a path between this realm of existence... and that... After all, with an empty broken world to play with, what can you do except make the most of it as you depart on a last ditch effort to save something you care about? Or in the least, have fun massacring a plot that had grown inconsistent anyway, while simultaneously 'living the dream'.

And so the black ops team was assembled and ready. Although this was on a subconscious level as most didn't even know they were about to embark on this mission. It was a small detail the writer had sort of... forgotten to mention... but with the use of a pleasant cocktail of both revolutionary new psychotropic drugs and tried and true hallucinogens, the carefully handpicked insertion team would all with any luck, wake up and believe it to be just a strange and unusual dream...

"Here dudes, put a bit of crazy in your cocktail." 

The voice was low and somewhat maniacal. You just got the kind of feeling that it you could see the mouth which owned the voice, it would be grinning wide like a Cheshire cat. A pale hand reached out through the darkness, a collection of small multi-coloured pills offered in the upturned palm. (They were of course, cleverly disguised as M&M). 

With hesitation, another hand stretched out and took a pill. Then another, and another...

It had begun.

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Max stared down at her hands and wondered if the trembling would ever stop. She had been holed up inside this room for four weeks now, too afraid to leave for fear that _they_ would get to her. As they had gotten to everyone else. It had always been the assumption that when the Coming finally... came... the transgenics would be ready for it. Of course, it wasn't set in stone, but they simply assumed the Prophesy would favour them - the good side. Somehow Sandeman's runes would provide a key to unlock the great mystery in _just_ the nick of time and Max, the hero of this show, would save them all. 

They were wrong. 

It had started moments after Joshua had raised the transgenic flag - a symbolic gesture that united the residents of Terminal City as a proud 'freak nation' rather than a mismatched gathering of sideways experiments herded together like lambs awaiting slaughter. 

No one was quite sure _what _it was, they simply knew a change had taken place, and it bore an ill omen. Call it sixth sense, call it animal instincts, but somehow each and every person be they human or part animal, had all sensed it. 

Perhaps it was just the general sense of impending doom that came of being holed up inside a 'twenty block no man's land'like sitting ducks, when the US Army, National Guard, Familiars, and a whole lotta transgenic-hating humans were waiting on the other side of a measly wire fence. Eagerly anticipating the day when the blood of Sandeman's children would wash the streets in red. (Or green. It was the opinions of some humans that transgenics had green blood - like the monsters in old horror movies.)

But it was more than that. The fabric of their world had formed a small rip. The existence of each and everyone of them, be they transgenic, human, or even familiar, was somehow... fading.

For a while, they tried to ignore it. But on the first day of the new year, _they_ came. And with them, they brought a plague of insanity which swept down upon the people of Seattle before anyone even realised what had happened. _They_ were everywhere. In the first few days there were a small handful. No one really noticed them at first, they could have been anyone. By the end of the first week there were dozens, by the second week there were over hundred. At last people began to question one another, searching the eyes of even strangers in the street for answers. 

And still they came. 

They were everywhere. They could assume any form. 

The infiltration of Terminal City had been child's play. They appeared as X-series and transhumans, in need of sanctuary. They were granted immediate admittance. After all, a person who could glow in the dark had to be a transgenic right? 

No one was immune to these creatures abilities to weasel their way in to every nook and cranny. They had even gained access to Ames White's secret sanctum sanatorium that even Ames White didn't know he had. 

Who were they? They claimed to be 'fans'. Whatever _that_ was meant to mean. They insisted they were 'residents of the broken world'. Except, there was something wrong with this - _their_ broken world had capitals. There was a marked difference between the broken world Max lived in, and The Broken World they had come from. She realised this now.

When Alec had found himself torn - literally - between these Fans, his cries for help ricocheted around the crumpled walls long after his unconscious, bleeding body had fallen to the ground. After that, the Fans had realised the foolishness of their actions and so the Alec Clones had arrived. Now, Max had no idea which was the real Alec. Nor did Alec.

A similar battle had ensued when the Fans had come across poor hapless Logan. On one side there were Fans who seemed to be trying to protect him, while at the same time attacking him much the way that Fans had attacked Alec. Meanwhile, another group of Fans (many of them sporting Alec Clones wearing titanium leashes), were also trying to launch themselves upon Logan. In an entirely different manner.

Max had come running to save Logan from both those who sought to protect him, and those who swore to restyle his hair (one of the less violent threats those with the Alec Clones had delivered). Upon hearing her cries to cease and desist, the Fans had abruptly halted in their attack, their eyes instead turning hungrily to Max. Seizing her, the Fans had pinned her down and told her she must make a decision. Eyes wild with a fear she had never before known, Max had begged them to tell her what it was she must decide upon. 

Unable to decide on what her decision should be, the Fans then released both Max and Logan, and began to battle amid themselves once more. It seemed to Max that no matter what decision she make, it would most likely be the wrong one anyway. 

Later, Max would learn that this battle was what the Fans commonly referred to as a Shipper War. Though, what that had to do with Logan's hair she would never understand.

At one point, Max had tried to call a meeting between transgenics and Fans, in the hope of convincing them they couldn't just go around trying to change the destinies of those within the broken world It wasn't right to twist the lives of others to suit their own purpose. (Bear in mind, this is the 'lower case' broken world we're talking of here. Just in case you're getting confused as to whether I'm referring to the world in which the DA characters live, or 'The Broken World' - DA message board located at... oh FFnet wont let me put in the link. Bugger.)

It was then that the Fans had revealed to them the truth. Their destinies had been cancelled by their own Creators. Therefore, if the Fans couldn't continue where the Creators left off, life within the fandom known as Dark Angel would cease to exist. 

Alec (or was it one of his clones?) sat in shock. He felt tugged in so many different directions. Looking down, he noticed several Fans had latched themselves onto him and were attempting to rip off his clothing. Brushing them aside, he was able to shake off that somewhat pleasant feeling and concentrate on whether to believe that these beings from another existence were telling the truth, or whether they were yet more enemies to add to those who sat outside the gates of Terminal City.

For weeks negotiations had gone on between both transgenics, humans and Fans. During this time, a small group of Fans ventured over to the Dark Side. They had returned with Ames White and a new name for themselves - the Unfamiliars. Instantly the transgenics gathered their weapons, Joshua in particular had never forgotten his personal vendetta against Ames White. But the Unfamiliars had claimed (amid much strange knowing winks) that in order to reach any sort of Conclusion, Good verus Evil must join forces. 

Unwilling to co-operate in any way with the man who'd sworn to erase her entire species, Max had turned to White with a sultry glare. But his own personal entourage of Fans had returned well practiced glares, causing the 'heroine' to nearly sag beneath the weight of such intense fanaticism. Unlike her, these Unfamiliars had functioning facial muscles, enabling them to put more expression into their glare. In comparison, Max's own attempt was more like a dull, lifeless _stare_.

Unable to deal with the pressure, Max had broken down in an uncharacteristic fit of sobs. She wasn't cut out for this, she was no leader. Hell, she'd escaped from Manticore at the age of _nine_ - what could she possibly know of leadership?

And so she now sat in her room, barricaded away from everyone, stupefied by paranoia. The Fans claimed that they wanted to keep the transgenics alive, they had sworn to somehow pick up where the Creators had left off. But as time passed, even the Fans began to fade away. Those that remained had at first spoken of maintaining Continuity, but now it seemed they simply wanted a Conclusion. Now matter _how_ it was achieved. They wanted to see the loose ends tied and they swore to see it done _by any means necessary_. 

They wanted Max to make a Decision. A decision over what? Such a thought terrified her. She didn't like having to make decisions, especially when they included Alec, Logan and of all people... White. Max wasn't completely stupid, she knew that her own opinion meant nothing to the Fans. She would be content to let Logan and Alec dangle in mid-air forever, and as for White... there was no chance he even entered the equation. 

But the Fans spoke late at night and with her super duper transgenic hearing, Max listened in fear to every word they said. Having no idea what Out Of Character was supposed to mean, Max only knew that the Fans were planning to do this to her and several other 'characters' of the 'show' _if need be_. 

Visions of Manticore sprung to mind at this revelation. Alone, in the dark, with only her fears to give her company, Max could almost feel the intense pain of the red lazer thingie burning into her pupil. They were going to reprogram her. She knew it. The Fans weren't happy with her Character so they were going to take it out of her and replace it with a new one. To a girl used to running away when the going got tough, escaping when she felt tied down... such a thought was the most terrifying of all.

Was there any point in trying to resist? Her world was doomed anyway. With each passing moment Max felt those around her fading. Perhaps the Fans _were _all that kept them alive. Maybe she couldn't stop her world from fading away, but she _could _tidy it up with a nice conclusion - before even the Fans forgot about the broken world in which they too had come to inhabit. 

But how? 

People are afraid of what they don't understand. And Max didn't understand any of this.

Do you?

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A/N2: Want to visit The Broken World? Click the link in my profile which'll lead you to my angelfire site, then click the banner which will take you down the rabbit hole and into TBW - come join in the Dark Angel insanity with the rest of us!!


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